


let the maggots and worms infest your brains

by Accidie



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Angst, Dark, Jealousy, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, One-Sided Enjolras/Grantaire, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, Revenge, Sexual Violence, messed up!grantaire, yeah this is awful
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-08
Updated: 2017-07-08
Packaged: 2018-11-29 14:35:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11442912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Accidie/pseuds/Accidie
Summary: Enjolras is frustratingly cold. Grantaire tries to force some feelings out of him, with disastrous consequences.





	let the maggots and worms infest your brains

"We are not friends." 

  
Enjolras chilling voice was still ringing in his head. He didn't know that their fight had been about anymore. He had said some nasty things, Enjolras had answered with something equally insulting. And blow after blow had they delivered upon the other until their friends had left Enjolras small apartment. Grantaire, always the jokester, smile wiped away from his face a long time ago. Enjolras was calm, had been the whole night even when cruel words left his lips, as if they were talking about the weather. Like this was the easiest thing in the world for him to say.    
   
"We are not friends, and you have overstayed your visit."   
"You don't mean that."  

"You are selfish and disruptive. I've had enough of you and your disrespectful ways." 

Somewhere deep inside of him, he knew that the damage was done, that he never would be able to repair this. Still he tried to bargain.   
   
"You know I believe in you."   
   
"I don't care."   
  


"I'll do anything for you, you know that,"    
   
"Do me a favour then and  _leave_."  

Enjolras just continued to push the knife in Grantaire's stomach deeper and deeper. Enjolras was always so charming to everyone except him. He would to anything to just once have Enjolras smile at him, to feel those icy eyes look at him with joy and tenderness.     
It was not fair. Courfeyrac was just as much of a jester as Grantaire, Bahorel was just as brawly, Jehan just as talkative. Why were they more deserving of Enjolras love and praise than him?   

 _It was_ _not_ _fair._  An unfamiliar feeling rose inside of him, a form of mania which he couldn't really place. He didn't know how to push it down, this destructive feeling threatening to explode, burst out of him like a whip, hurting everyone around him. He needed to leave, because being any longer in Enjolras presence would destroy him. Destroy them both.  

But he couldn't leave because  _Enjolras_ _was here in front of him_ , glorious even with his ice cold face and with his eyes indifferent. Christ, couldn't Enjolras at least hate him? Feel something, Enjolras who felt so much for everything else. Not even passion could Enjolras grant him.  

   
"I love you." Grantaire said, and each step he took closer towards Enjolras, Enjolras matched by taking one back, a weird imitation of a dance.    
   
"You are incapable of loving anything other than the alcohol in your bottle."  

Grantaire couldn't stop himself from lunging at Enjolras, grapping a hold of his collar and pushing him up against the wall between them. 'Please,' Grantaire thought, 'Please feel something for me.' But Enjolras was still stoic, and cold and frustratingly beautiful.    
   
Something detonated inside of him. The feeling of rejection, every last drip of sadness inside of him turned to desperation  All boundaries gone, he would force a reaction out of Enjolras. And after that, Enjolras would never have power over him again. 

"I'll show you", Grantaire said. "I'll show you just how much I love you." 

For the first time, he could see a flicker of fear in Enjolras’ eyes. The sight sent shiver down his spine and it was intoxicating, he could feel himself harden, a wave of heat rushing to his crotch. He could feel Enjolras heart beating even through the layers of clothing and skin between them, hear every breath.  

"Let go of me Grantaire!" Enjolras snarled, but Grantaire's grip around the other man's collar just tightened.    
   
Before Enjolras could say anything more, Grantaire silenced him with a slap across his face. He was hit by a strange thought; that letting go of Enjolras would cause him to disappear, dissolve in thin air. He leaned in and took a deep breath, and how wonderful Enjolras smelled, sweet and heavenly! Grantaire moaned, he wanted to stay with his face buried in the man's hair forever, but when Enjolras recoiled in disgust, Grantaire drew back. Shame hit him, a blush staining his already red cheeks, turning him scarlet. Was he really so awful, so foul that Enjolras couldn't even stand being close to him? To think that this was the man who usually talked about love and justice, and now he would deny Grantaire this small affection, this short moment of intimacy. Wrath quickly replaced his shame. He punched Enjolras in the gut, not once but twice, gaining a perverse pleasure from hearing his idol moan in pain. It felt like vengeance, revenge for every imagined slight he could think of.    
   
He was fully hard now, painfully aware of how his erection strained against his pants. Enjolras must have noticed it too, because he looked even more panic-stricken than before. Sweet, virginal Enjolras. Grantaire doubted that the man had ever seen a cock other than his own before. He punched him again just because he could, and Enjolras flew like a marionette into the floor, his head hitting the wall on his way down. Within a second, Grantaire was on top of him with his fingers working on the buttons of Enjolras waistcoat, and one hand wrapped around his wrists, preventing Enjolras from defending himself against the assault   
   
"Please", Enjolras mumbled hoarsely, his voice clouded with pain. "My friend-,"   
   
"So we are friends now?", Grantaire laughed. He now got rid of the waistcoat, and soon after that he managed to get Enjolras shirt of as well. His free hand now working his way into Enjolras pants, Enjolras moved underneath him, desperately trying to escape his predicament. But Grantaire was not only stronger, he had several kilos in his favor. And Enjolras was still groggy from the hits. Grantaire pulled down Enjolras pants with ease, as if he was playing with a doll, exposing Enjolras drawers.    
 He took in Enjolras body, now almost completely nude underneath him. Enjolras was thin, ribs visible on his chest, the flesh pale with purple bruises already beginning to form on his torso. He was marvelous, more beautiful than he ever could imagine. His skin was soft and warm, unlike the cold and stoic person Enjolras usually was. Had anyone ever seen him like this, bare and vulnerable? Grantaire could feel Enjolras heart beating frantically in his chest. With a few punches he could crush the rib cage of him, he could stop Enjolras heart from beating any further just by wrapping his own hands around the others throat. He was the one in power now. Enjolras would never have power over him again.    
 

He leaned in to kiss Enjolras lips, his hand in a tight grip around the blond locks decorating Enjolras scalp, he refused to let Enjolras turn away, to deny him any longer. Enjolras tasted salty. Grantaire didn't dare to look into his eyes.    
He bit Enjolras lower lip, and the salty taste was replaced by the metallic one of blood. His hand moved from Enjolras hair to his underwear. He wasted no time with them, just tore them of Enjolras body as if they were made of tissue.   
   
He buttoned up his own pants and pulled them down just enough to free his erection, and this made Enjolras snap out of his shocked, coma-like condition. As if he just now realized what was about to happen to him.    
   
"Don't do this", he pleaded. Even his begs sounded like demands.    
   
Grantaire positioned himself, his cock pressing against Enjolras entrance.  

"Do what?" Grantaire whispered into Enjolras ear. "Don't do what,  _Julien_?" 

Enjolras didn't seem to hear, he mumbled something for himself. Grantaire could only distinguishh 'diue' and '-tu abandonné'.    
   
Just as he was about to push in, he realized he hadn't any lubricant. To push in dry would be a nightmare. Of course, he could make Enjolras suck him off (Hadn't he dreamed of having Enjolras lips around his cock so many times before?) but he didn't want to risk having his dick bitten off by the man underneath him. His own spit would have to do, not that he would last long enough inside Enjolras to have any mortal damage to be done to his insides.   
   
And with that, he pushed in in one swift motion. Enjolras, still incoherently mumbling, fell silent and stiffened, all color disappeared from his face leaving him white as a sheet. And when Grantaire finally dared to gaze into Enjolras eyes, nothing greeted him. They were wide open and empty.    
   
Enjolras was painfully tight, Grantaire feared that his cook would snap in half. But after a few thrusts it was getting easier to move, warm blood acting as a form of lube. He worked up a fast pace, each thrust pushing Enjolras harder and harder into the floor, Grantaire grunting on top of him, hands in a tight grip around Enjolras hips. And Enjolras was frustratingly silent. He refused to give Grantaire his love, refused him his friendship, and now he even refused him his voice.    
Grantaire pushed even harder into Enjolras, slapped him, pulled his hair and called him filthy things, but Enjolras was silent, blank. Broken. Just before Grantaire was about to come, he pulled out and spilled his seed over Enjolras face and hair as a last insult. He wiped of his cock on Enjolras discarded shirt and pulled up his pants. Enjolras was still just lying there, if Grantaire didn't know better, he would confuse him with a corpse. And even naked, bloodied and with Grantaire's cum marking his face, he was still beautiful. Grantaire wanted to immortalize this, never forget this night where Enjolras was his to use. It would make a beautiful painting. 'Defiled god'! He was still not satisfied, so he took a scissor from Enjolras writing desk and took a small piece of hair from Enjolras head, Enjolras flinching when he heard the snip, and put the golden strand in his pocket.

  
"A souvenir", he mocked.  
And with that Grantaire left, not bothering closing the door behind him.  He couldn't wait to get home and sleep.  

\----- 

He woke up just a hour after going to bed by a pounding on the door. He felt light-headed, like he was just coming down from a high. No one ever visited him. His heart thudded in chest. Was it the law? Had Enjolras sent the gendarme after him?    
Not likely, they were not on good terms after all trouble the ABC caused them before. 

It had to be about something else.   
He thought of ignoring the visitor, but whoever it was knocking on his door didn't want to leave.  

Perhaps it was some street-rat confusing him with the fence living next to him? It had happened before and had gotten him into many dangerous situations, many times having to spend hours vowing the thief that he wouldn't go to the law enforcement with what he knew of their affairs.    
   
When he went to open the door, he found out that it was something far more frightening.  

Combeferre, his steel grey eyes cold, jaw clenched with his medical bag in hand.  

Courfeyrac, all traces laughter gone from his face. An arm was draped over his shoulder supporting the third person beside them.   
   
Enjolras. He was clean now, his dignity restored, more holy than ever even with bruises marring his face. And his eyes, god his eyes! A range of emotions in them, from disdain, to sadness, softness, and back to a calculating, vengeful look that chilled him to his very core. Grantaire wanted nothing more than to fall on his knees and beg for forgiveness, but deep down he knew that if he got the chance to undo what was done, he wouldn't take it.  

Combeferre. Courfeyrac. Enjolras.    
The triumvirate united as judge, jury, executioner.  

The door closed behind them. Grantaire hoped his death would be quick. 

**Author's Note:**

> yeah i have no excuse for this


End file.
